


I'm Sorry Every Song's About You

by cellostiel



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Jack, Trans Ryan, cannibalism ideation, violence ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellostiel/pseuds/cellostiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just-" Ray starts, breaking the silence. Ryan looks up from mopping up the worst of the blood. Ray huffs, runs a hand through his hair. <i>"Why?"</i></p><p>Ryan shrugs again, casting his eyes down to the floor as he resumes his work. </p><p>~</p><p>Ryan has somewhat of a... problem, concerning Ray, and it makes him do stupid things, like leaving dead bodies in Ray's kitchen. Ray is not impressed. Ray is also a cannibal, and Ryan's kinda into that.</p><p>*Note: the major character death is theoretical, but still depicted in some light detail and possibly upsetting</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry Every Song's About You

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so here's the rub: I started this last year, when I was super into the fandom, and since then that interest's kinda... faded a bit, so I'm not sure if this'll ever get finished. But what is here is pretty damn good in my opinion, and I'm pretty fucking proud of it, so fuck it, I'm gonna post it. It does kind of stand on its own, but the overall plot remains unresolved, and I had a lot more planned for this.
> 
> Idk I might finish this if there's enough interest and/or I get motivated to write it again, but there's a very real chance that this is all there will ever be. 
> 
> Warnings for: graphic depictions of violence in the first scene, including character 'death' and drinking of blood; brief description of disposing of a body and cleaning up after it; talk of cannibalism and participation in cannibalism, but brief and very lightly described  
> Please let me know if there are any additional warnings needed!
> 
> EDIT: I totally forgot to mention, but in this au, Ryan is trans! It's not mentioned in this part, since I meant to reveal it later in the story, but he is intended to be trans in this. Since it's not really mentioned, you can ignore it if it's not your thing, but if that is your thing, then you're in luck!! He can also be read as aro-spec, and I had plans to make Ray ace-spec!

The blade scrapes over his skin, wet with another man's blood. It drags up his arm, not quite enough to break skin, and travels up his bare shoulder, his neck, guiding his chin up to look at the man before him.

Ray's grin is wide and wicked, blood dripping from his mouth, but his hand is gentle where it comes up to stroke along Ryan's jaw. Ryan swallows, something not quite like fear stirring in his chest. The blade nicks his chin, and he's breathless with the feeling growing inside of him. 

"Don't you look delectable." Ray purrs, leaning right up to Ryan's ear. Ryan shudders, eyes fluttering shut. Ray grabs his chin roughly, pressing his thumb into the new cut and forcing Ryan's eyes open. "Look at me." he growls, face grim. Ryan nods, just a twitch of his head, and Ray's mouth curves back into a grin.

"Good." He presses his mouth to Ryan's, filling it with the taste of blood and death. It makes Ryan whine.

The blade slices across his throat, sharp and quick, and Ryan gasps, but no blood pours into his throat. Ray's lips leave his, latching onto his throat instead. He drinks up the blood greedily, one hand squeezing Ryan's shoulder as Ryan's mind starts to swim. 

Ray finally leans back, Ryan's blood spilling out of his mouth as he smirks. "Just like I thought." He strokes Ryan's face again, leaving behind a trail of blood. Ryan's eyelids are heavy now, threatening to drag him under. Ray shushes him, reaching up with gentle fingertips to smooth Ryan's eyes closed. 

"Sleep, Ryan." he murmurs, and Ryan obeys. The world slips away, and Ryan is falling, falling-

 

He wakes with a jolt, jerking upright as his hand reaches for his gun. The cold metal is chilling, but the shape is familiar, comforting. 

Ryan's breaths heave in and out of him, his eyes darting around the room, taking it in. He's in his room, in his apartment, in his bed. Not at Ray's, tied to a chair in his kitchen. But he still feels it, feels the rope around his wrists and his ankles, the wooden chair back digging into his shoulder blades.

He puts his hand over his throat, feeling it. Not a scrape. And yet the sting is there, Ray's soft lips smoothing over his skin, tongue darting out to lick up the blood running down his neck. It taunts him, the feelings fading into phantom sensations. The ghost of a dream.

Ryan huffs a sigh, flopping back onto his bed. His hand is curled loose around his gun. 

The feeling from the dream tosses and turns in his chest. Ryan drapes an arm over his eyes, screwing his eyes tight against the restless emotion.

It's not fear struggling between his ribs. Not at all.

 

~

 

"What the fuck is this?" Ray asks, hands on his hips as he glares down at the corpse lying at his feet. 

Ryan shifts his weight, glancing around the kitchen as though it will save him from coming up with an explanation. He lifts a shoulder in a shrug -  _ 'it's for you' _ doesn't seem to cut it.

Ray sighs, nudging his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "God, it's like having a cat." he grumbles. Ryan looks down at the floor, sheepish.

"You couldn't have at least drained it first?" Ray asks, dropping his hand to wave at the pool of blood spreading over the white tiles. Ryan can only offer another shrug. He didn't think that far ahead.

Ray shakes his head, picking his way over the body and the blood to leave the kitchen. Ryan stares at the body, chewing his lip and thinking of ways he could have done this better, while Ray rifles through the closet on the other side of the wall. 

He comes back with a tarp in his arms, and drops it onto the floor. Ryan helps him unfold it wordlessly, then they lift the body onto the tarp and wrap it. Ray jerks his head towards the bathroom, and Ryan nods, lifting the body easily and carrying it through the living room. Ray stays behind, staring at the pool of blood. 

"What a mess," he hears Ray murmur.

Ryan drops the body in the tub, then returns to the kitchen. Ray turns to him, waves his arms at the blood as if to say, 'Well? This is your mess, clean it up.' Ryan nods and goes to the closet, taking out the necessary items for cleaning up blood. 

Ray leans back against the counter, watching him as he works.

"I just-" Ray starts, breaking the silence. Ryan looks up from mopping up the worst of the blood. Ray huffs, runs a hand through his hair.  _ "Why?" _

Ryan shrugs again, casting his eyes down to the floor as he resumes his work. Ray sighs, loud and exasperated. 

_ "Is _ this like a cat thing?" Ray asks. Ryan doesn't look at him, pretending not to know what he means. "Jesus, Rye, I can fucking feed myself, alright? I don't need you dropping bodies in my kitchen like you're fucking Dominoes."

Ryan can only shrug. Embarrassment ties up his tongue, rendering it useless. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ray scrub a hand over his face. 

He's well aware of how easily Ray can get his hands on bodies, knows that the Lads have an excellent system that makes sure they all have a good supply at any given time. Ryan just… thought he would help, is all. It's not like Ray couldn't stand to eat more, put some meat on those bones.

But if he tells Ray that, Ray will ask why. He'll keep digging and digging,  _ 'why, why, why,' _ and Ryan will have nothing to answer with. 

Ray huffs. "The day I understand you is the day hell freezes over, I guess. Whatever, Rye. At least prep it next time; I'm gonna run out of bleach." Ray turns and leaves the kitchen with a last roll of his eyes. "Lock up when you leave."

Ryan feels shame hot on his neck. He finishes cleaning Ray's kitchen silently, relatches the jimmied lock on the kitchen window, and leaves through the front door, locking it behind him. The latch of the bolt is too loud in the dark hallway. Ryan swallows down the guilt rising up in his throat and heads to the elevator. 

The drive back to his own apartment is too calm, too silent. Ryan's skin crawls. He knows he just hunted down and murdered someone, and that the crew had a big job yesterday, but he's full of nervous energy, and he needs to burn it off somehow.

He stops at a gas station between his apartment and Ray's. The kid at the register doesn't even look twice at Ryan, despite the skull mask. Ryan flexes his hands, wondering if just one will be enough. Should he wait for another customer to show up? It's a little past three in the morning in a quieter part of town, though (quiet for Los Santos, anyway), so that might not be likely. He could alert the cashier, get them to trigger the alarm and get the cops here, but that's too loud, too much attention. Geoff would be mad. 

Ryan wanders through the tiny aisles, wasting time examining the various snacks and items on display. He'll make five laps, then kill the cashier. How to do it, though? He could pull his gun and shoot the kid square between the eyes, no trouble. But Ryan wants a little trouble.

Can't be too much of a struggle, or the kid might hit the alarm. But if the kid goes down too easily, then that's no fun, is it? He may as well make the kid empty the register for him. Maybe he'll get enough to buy a game for Ray as an apology for earlier. 

Ryan reaches under his mask to rub at his eye. God, he sounds pathetic. 

"You okay, dude?" the cashier asks, leaning on the counter. Ryan drops his hand and nods, slowly. "You looking for something?" Ryan shakes his head.

"No, not really." he says. "Just can't sleep." 

The cashier nods. A lot of people in this city can't sleep. They go back to the magazine laid out on the counter in front of them, and Ryan continues his fourth lap.

The end of the fifth lap lands him by the candy, so he grabs a packet of Reese's and takes it up to the front. The kid sits up, but keeps their eyes on their magazine as they ring up Ryan's purchase. 

"$2.04." they say blandly, glancing up at him. Their eyes meet Ryan's, and they freeze. 

Ray says when Ryan's set out to kill someone, locking eyes with him is like locking eyes with the devil himself. 

Ryan hops the counter, wrapping an arm around the kid's throat and jabbing his gun into their back. "Empty the register," he growls into their ear. The kid obeys, punching the keys until the tray pops out. "Put the cash into a bag." 

The kid is quick about it, Ryan will give them that. They move like they've done this before, and knowing Los Santos, they probably have. 

"Will that be all?" the kid asks, setting the bag down on the counter. Fuck, Ryan's starting to feel bad about killing them. He glances down at the silent alarm under the counter.

"Yes, actually. Hit that button for me, would you?"

The kid raises their brows at him, but reaches under the counter and hits the button. "Whatever floats your boat, man."

Ryan smiles. He can let this one live.

He ties the kid up and checks them for weapons, because he's not stupid, then leaves them behind the counter and double checks his guns. Everything's in order, so he grabs the money and waits for the cops to show up. 

 

~

 

_ "Really,  _ Ryan?" Geoff asks loudly. 

Ryan frowns, cracking his eye open to see Geoff hovering over him, scowling. "What part of lay low don't you get?" Geoff demands. Ryan drags his eyes all the way open, glances around the room. He's in the living room in Geoff's penthouse, and he vaguely remembers breaking in to crash on Geoff's couch last night.

"I mean, I could move to the floor…" he says. Geoff glares.

"Har har, asshole. Get your ass up and take a shower: you smell like death."

Geoff leaves him there, and Ryan sighs, staring up at the ceiling for a long minute. He can hear clattering in the kitchen, and someone responding in low tones to Geoff's loud complaining. Jack, no doubt. 

Finally Ryan pushes himself up with a grunt, rubbing the heel of his hand into the eyehole of his mask. He swings his legs off the couch, and his foot hits a plastic bag. Ryan peers at it, sleep muddled brain not quite comprehending for a moment. He picks it up and digs in it, finding about fifteen bucks, a packet of Reese's, and a fresh copy of one of those new Pokemon games. 

Huh, so he did make it to a game store last night. But why Pokemon-

Oh. 

Ryan's face flushes hot, and he drops the bag to rub at both his eyes. Fuck, he needs a shower. 

He picks himself up from the couch and drags himself to the guest bath. He twists the knob as far left as it will go, then peels off his mask with a groan, glaring at the smeared paint in his reflection. His entire being feels gross, and he's not completely sure it's only because of the blood, sweat, and dirt sticking to him. 

He pulls off his clothes and drops them to the floor, kicking them into the corner. He'll throw them in the wash and grab some spares from his room after his shower. 

The water is scalding when Ryan steps under the spray, and he revels in it. He takes his time, scrubbing at his face until every trace of the paint is gone. There's something deeply satisfying about the clean start, about running his hand over his face and feeling nothing but skin. 

He pictures Ray kissing along his jaw, nipping at the skin before licking the cut on his chin, lapping at the blood welling up there. 

Ryan bangs his head against the shower wall, screwing his eyes shut and cursing himself. What the fuck is wrong with him? He used to have normal fantasies about Ray, he swears. Three years he's known Ray, known about his cannibalistic lifestyle, but it's only now that his fantasies of Ray have taken this turn. 

Is he that fucked up? Did something fucking snap the other night, when they pulled that job? 

Ryan thinks through the night, trying to pick out something that might have caused this. He comes up empty. Maybe it's just him.

Ray's scowl at the body flashes through Ryan's mind. Fuck, did Ryan really think Ray would enjoy finding a dead body in his kitchen?

_ 'What a mess,' _

He shuts the water off and stands there, water dripping off him as he stares at the wall. 

What a mess.

He eventually forces himself to step out of the shower and towel off. He wraps the towel around his waist and digs under the cabinet for his face paint, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds it. Despite Geoff's many threats to throw it out, he never does, and Ryan is thankful. 

Ryan isn't sure what's more satisfying: removing the paint, or applying it. His brushstrokes are careful, practiced, and there's something about watching his face disappear under red, black, and white that settles him. 

Ray's done his paint a couple times, when Ryan was tired and stubborn after a heist and Ray had to shove him into a shower to clean his wounds. Ryan insisted on having his paint back on before Ray dragged him out to the living room so Geoff could yell at them all. Ray rolled his eyes but dug out Ryan's paint kit and set to work. 

His painting was novice at best, but his hands were steady, and Ryan let his eyes fall closed, just feeling Ray's hand on his face, holding him still, and the brush gently painting his skin. 

Ryan pauses with the brush on his lip, staring himself down in the mirror. As much as Ray has gotten under his skin, made himself at home where no one has any right to be, Ryan can't even find it in himself to be mad at him. No, if Ryan's mad at anyone, it's himself for letting it get to this point. 

He wraps the towel tighter around his waist, then grabs his mask and slips out of the bathroom. Chattering reaches him from the living room, and curious, he pokes his head in to see. The Lads are camped out in front of the TV with Geoff, controllers in hand, Michael draped over both Geoff and Gavin while Ray is on the smaller couch Ryan crashed on last night, his controller forgotten on the coffee table as he looks through the contents of the plastic bag in his lap. He looks up and meets Ryan's eyes, raising a brow. Ryan looks away, his cheeks hot. He disappears down the hall before anyone else can notice him. 

He shuts himself in his room and leans back against the door, tugging his mask back on. Get a hold of yourself, Haywood. He's had feelings for Ray for upwards of two years; he's not going to start losing it over them now. 

Heaving a sigh, he pushes himself away from the door and gets dressed. He pops back into the bathroom to grab his guns from the counter, checking each of them out of habit. Once he's sure everything's in order, he walks through the living room to the kitchen, not sparing the others a glance as he passes them. Even so, he can feel the weight of Ray's gaze on him.

Jack is in the kitchen, digging through the fridges, apparently trying to get lunch together. Ryan wordlessly hovers until Jack notices and starts handing him things to set on the counter. 

"Ray brought a lot of food in today." Jack notes. Their tone sounds innocent, but when Ryan looks over, they're looking at him intently. 

Ryan shrugs, looking down at the container in his hand. It's the Lads' color, labelled with today's date. "He probably grabbed a body from the job."

"Maybe." Jack pretends to muse, "It just seems weird, since the Lads just stocked up last week."

Ryan fiddles with container lids, making sure the Lads' containers are far away from the Gents'. "Huh. That's odd."

"I know." Jack's words are dripping with meaning, but Ryan ignores it in favor of digging through the cabinets for pans to heat up the meals. Jack sighs. "I didn't think you liked Pokemon."

Ryan lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "It's alright."

"Mhm." Ryan can feel Jack's eyes boring into him. "Ryan, if you need to talk-"

"I don't."

"Well, if you do," Jack continues, unperturbed. "You know I'm here."

Ryan nods, flatly says, "Thank you, Jack."

Thankfully Jack leaves it at that, and they cook together in silence, Jack heating up the Lads' food while Ryan preps the Gents'. 

Jack goes to call everyone in, and Ryan sets the dining table. Michael and Gavin come over, hanging off of each other and talking loudly with Geoff shortly behind them, stifling a yawn. Ray files in last, head down and entirely focused on his DS. Jack guides him into a chair with a gentle hand, and Ray only looks up when Michael fixes him a plate and sets it in front of him. 

Ryan looks down at his own plate before Ray's eyes can catch his. He pokes at the stir fry Jack's scooped onto his plate, not particularly interested in eating at the moment. 

"Ryan," Geoff says, catching his attention. Ryan looks up at him. "I wanna talk to you after lunch. About the shit you pulled last night." 

Ryan doesn't miss Ray staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He nods. "Yes, Geoff."

"Good." Geoff turns back to talk to Michael and Gavin about something, and Ryan's gaze returns to his plate. He folds the bottom of his mask up and shovels a forkful into his mouth.

After lunch, Geoff leads Ryan up to the roof while the others clean up. Geoff leans against the railing, watching patiently as Ryan pries up a loose piece of stone and retrieves his stash of cigs. Standing, Ryan shoves up his mask, puts one in his mouth and pats himself for his lighter. Which isn't there, because he left it in his pants on the bathroom floor. Fucking idiot. 

"Need a light?" Geoff offers, holding out his own lighter. Ryan nods his thanks, accepting it. He lights up his cigarette and takes a long drag before handing the lighter back. Geoff pockets it.

"You wanna tell me what you were thinking last night?" Geoff asks, looking out onto the city. 

"Not sure if I was." Ryan says honestly. Geoff slides his eyes over to stare at him. "I just- needed a little mayhem."

"You just got a big dose of mayhem yesterday."

"I know. I-" Ryan takes a deep breath, taps the ash off his cig. "I fucked up, alright? I did something stupid, and I thought it would make me feel better."

Geoff looks him over. "Did it?"

"For a bit. Then I woke up feeling worse."

Geoff snorts. "Yeah, I know that feeling. It's a bitch, huh?"

Ryan nods slowly. He takes another drag from his cigarette. If only it were weed.

"Look, Ryan, whatever it is, don't turn down our help if you need it. And don't let it put the crew in danger, you hear me?"

"Yes, Geoff."

Geoff nods, satisfied. "Good. Now, seriously, buddy. What's going on with you?"

Ryan sighs. Maybe he can confide in Geoff with this one thing. After all, Geoff's in a similar situation, if in some ways opposite. 

"Honestly, it has to do with the cannibalism thing." Geoff's brows go up.

"It's finally getting to you?"

"Probably not in the way you're thinking, but yes."

Geoff lets out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his beard. "I know how you feel, buddy. Shit can be tough to deal with. I mean, I can pretend all I like that my boys don't consume human flesh, but the fact is they do, and we just gotta deal with that. Doesn't mean I can't make 'em brush their teeth before they kiss me, though."

"It's, uh," Ryan starts, fiddling with his cig. "It's not exactly like that for me." Geoff looks at him curiously, and Ryan shrinks into his jacket, admitting, "I kind of like that part, to be honest."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Geoff groans, dropping his head into his hands. "First the Lads, then Jack stealing their food when he's- when they're lazy, and now you? Is no one else as grossed out by it as I am?"

"I mean, I'd never actually eat it myself, but… I dunno." Ryan shrugs helplessly. "I like the idea of Ray doing it, I guess."

"You seem to like the idea of Ray in general." Geoff's mouth ticks up into a smirk, and Ryan rolls his eyes. 

"I'm that obvious, huh?" 

"Today you certainly were. Fucking Pokemon, really?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"Lemme guess, the something stupid has to do with Ray."

Silence stretches out, and Geoff snorts.

"Of course it did. What'd you do? Did he catch you lurking around his apartment with whatever the murderous version of a stereo is?"

"He found me in his kitchen with a dead body."

"What the fuck, Ryan?!"

"I know! I don't know why I did it, but I did, and I fucked up, and apparently now I can't  _ stop _ fucking up!" He flicks his half smoked cigarette off the building, and Geoff frowns at him. 

"Dude, you had  _ one _ bad day. Give it some time. Maybe Ray's just as much a weirdo as you are and thinks it's sweet you… brought him a dead body."

"Trust me," Ryan scoffs, "he doesn't."

"Welp, that's all I've got." Geoff stands, clapping a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Good luck, buddy." With that, he disappears back downstairs. Ryan tips his head back, glaring up at the sky. 

Pushing away from the railing, he tugs his mask down and stalks towards the fire escape. When all his usual means of making himself feel better fail, there's always one he can count on. It's actually a method he picked up from Ray. Aside from the weed, that is.

Yep, video games and jacking off it is. 


End file.
